


Dark Night of the Soul

by ladyarcherfan3



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyarcherfan3/pseuds/ladyarcherfan3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin and Marian converse and comfort each other as Marian adjusts to being an outlaw, and as new and old griefs appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Robin lay in his bunk, staring up at the roof, the taste of treason bitter in his mouth.  The gang slept deeply, the multiple high risk and tragic happenings of the day taking their toll on them all.  Yet, Robin found no rest as his thoughts chased themselves in endless circles and his soul writhed in frustration.  He and the gang had experienced more than their share of treason thanks to Allan, but the betrayal he felt now was far worse; it was his own.  How could he possibly feel any joy at Marian’s presence in the camp when it was her father’s death that had finally brought her to the forest? 

 

He frowned and rolled to his side, the rustle of his blanket almost obscuring a strange sound that broke the quiet of the night.  Warrior instincts tensed his muscles and focused his hearing and vision.  The camp was silent save for the snores of the sleeping gang; the forest outside the camouflaged walls whispered nothing but the typical contentment and shadowed secrets that Robin knew well enough.  Just as he relaxed his guard, the sound came again – a muffled, heartbroken sob.

 

Robin cursed at himself.  _Here you are thinking of her, and you can’t even recognize her despair when you need to!_   

 

Marian had not cried after he had asked her to come to the forest with him.  She had just been silent and somewhat withdrawn, as if the grief was suddenly too sharp for tears.  However, Robin thought she had simply built a wall around her emotions in order not to look weak in front of the gang – and him.  He knew Marian rarely reached for comfort, and that she might get upset with any attempt of his to soothe her.  Yet, he could not help slipping out of his bunk and silently crossing to her bedside; her prideful stubbornness was just one of the many reasons he loved her. 

 

“Marian,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor next to her bunk.  Her back was to him, so he reached out and gently stroked her hair.

 

She stiffened as he said her name and then muttered around stifled sobs, “G-go back to sleep, Robin.  I’m sorry I woke you, I’m being a nuisance.” 

 

Robin grinned wryly, and decided to try and lighten the mood.  “Yes, you are.  You finally come to the forest after refusing for how long, and now you are keeping me awake.” 

 

It was the wrong thing to say, and Robin growled at himself as Marian pulled away, a harsh sob tearing from her throat. 

 

“I’m sorry Marian, I did not mean that.”

 

She sniffled and said, “You did and it’s true.”

 

Robin sighed.  “Yes, it is.  But you weren’t keeping me awake.” 

 

Her back still to Robin, Marian asked sarcastically, “Oh?  And what does the great Robin Hood do instead of sleep at night?”   

 

“Think, mostly.”

 

“About what?”

 

Robin pursed his lips, his eyes dropping to study his hands, as Marian still refused to look at him.  “I was thinking that I have no right to feel any happiness that you’re here when you are grieving.  That I should not be grateful that you’re finally in the forest, safe, because your father had to die for it to happen.  And that is not right.  Edward died a hero, but I wish he might have lived on and died peacefully in his sleep, for all our sakes.”

 

Marian sat up and turned to look at him, eyes were red and puffy in the moonlight; her entire countenance spoke of a lost, sorrowful child.  She lifted a hand to his face and traced the path of a tear Robin didn’t know had existed.  Her puzzled look prompted an answer.

 

“Your father and I might not have agreed on a lot of things, but he was your father, and a friend to me.”  

 

Tears welled in Marian’s eyes, and her wall of will finally buckled. “Oh, Robin,” she sobbed.  “I can’t believe he’s gone!”     

 

Robin expected her to curl into a ball, or to pull away and turn her back to him once again, being the strong and self reliant Marian that she always was.  She so rarely sought out comfort that he was surprised when she suddenly grabbed his hand and clung to it as the tears fell.  With only a heart beat’s hesitation, he slid into the bunk next to her and gathered her shuddering frame against his chest.  Marian buried her face in his shoulder and Robin simply held her while the storm of grief ran its course.

 

When Marian finally took a deep breath that was not released on a sob, Robin whispered, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Wh-what sort of question is that?” Marian hiccupped but Robin could hear a small smile in her voice.  She continued, “Tired, and still sad.”  She bit back another sob and asked, “Does it ever get better?”

 

“In time,” Robin whispered back, stroking her hair.  “You’ll still miss him, but it won’t be as sharp.”  Marian sighed and burrowed her head into his shoulder again.  Robin continued, “Ask . . . well, anybody here.  You know Will’s father was killed not long ago.  Djaq told me her father was killed by Crusaders.  Much’s father died in a mill fire when he was young.  I’m not sure about John’s family, but he knows about loss.”

 

“You forgot yourself.  You lost your father as well.”

 

“Yes.  He died in a fire, like Much’s father.”  Swept up in the memory, Robin muttered, “Damn my father, he had to be the hero.  He shouldn’t have gone back into that house!”

 

“Sounds like someone I know,” Marian murmured.  She looked up at Robin and gave him a wry smile. 

 

He shook his head.  “Hardly.  We had argued the day before – I wanted more authority as the heir of Locksley, and told him he was an old man, only fit to sit and entertain in his house.”  Robin swallowed.  “The next day, he died, trying to prove me wrong, I think.  And suddenly I was Lord of Locksley at the age of fifteen.” 

 

Marian was silent for a time, before she whispered, “That sounds familiar, too.” 

 

Robin did not reply but simply pulled her closer in comfort.  They sat silently for a while, as the night sighed and breathed around them.  Marian slowly relaxed in Robin’s arms, comforted and too weary to cry anymore that night.  She was steadily rebuilding a wall around her emotions, but for the moment, it was far easier to just sit and be held.  As Robin reveled in the wonderful feeling of closeness with Marian, he smiled and a silent chuckle purred in his chest.  It was a bittersweet contentment to have her in the forest, but he could not deny he was pleased about it.   

 

Apparently Marian felt the movement and asked, “What?”  

 

Robin chuckled out loud but instead of answering about his feelings, he drew forward a memory.  “Do you remember the time your father caught me climbing up to your window the first time?”

 

“As I recall, you were already at the window, and attempting to climb in!  Nor was it the first time you had tried.  I had told you to leave, but you wouldn’t listen as usual.” 

 

“You know me – I like a challenge.” 

 

Marian shook her head.  “What was the greater challenge- getting me to listen to your horrible attempts at wooing me, or sneaking past my father?”

 

“Let’s say that the risk to my heart was greater than the risk to my life that your father posed.”  Robin smirked, and then said, “Ow!” as Marian shoved him gently.  “Though afterwards, I was rather worried that he would use his power as sheriff to punish me for attempting to tarnish his daughter’s reputation.” 

 

A superior smile on her lips, Marian said, “He wouldn’t have needed to have worried – my shutters were locked, and all you were doing was reciting horrible bits of poetry at me.  There was no chance I would have let you near enough to “tarnish my reputation”.  I was only thirteen, you weren’t that attractive.”

 

“Ah, but that opinion has changed for the better, hasn’t it, my love?”

 

Marian felt a wave of warmth soothe her heart to hear those words from his lips.  They so rarely spoke of their feelings for each other – and normally only in dangerous situations – that the simple novelty of the words was brilliantly fresh.  Yet, she refused to give Robin the satisfaction of the last word.  “At least you no longer spurt that ridiculous tripe you used to peddle.” 

 

“And that’s the thanks I get for telling you my feelings!”

 

“You have to admit, some of it was horrendous.” She smiled and shifted in his arms, seeking just a hairsbreadth of freedom. 

 

Robin shrugged, lips twisting into an unwilling grin of agreement.  “Only the bits born of sheer desperation.” 

 

“You like a challenge, I couldn’t make it easy for you.”

 

“You so rarely do.”

 

Marian had no reply to this, but simply glanced at Robin sharply, guilt and sadness in her gaze, while his eyes were filled with hurt and frustration; neither of them had to say the name of Gisborne to know what the other was thinking. 

 

They sat in silence again, their thoughts suddenly running in different directions, as they themselves were so wont to do.  There was an almost imperceptible shift as they both drew away from the other, still touching, but no longer joined by the mutual feeling of bittersweet comfort; the spell had been broken by the reminder of the unhealed sore in their relationship.   

 

Still holding Marian’s hand, Robin gently stroked the palm with his thumb; he could feel calluses from the use of swords, a physical reminder that Marian was far more than just the quick thinking and stubborn noblewoman he loved.  He asked suddenly, “When did your father allow you to learn how to use a sword?  You knew how to use a bow before I left for the Holy Land – you challenged me enough when we were young!  But what brought about the swordplay?”

 

Marian gave a reminiscent smile.  “Not long after you left, my father and I were both at the castle; he was holding court, and I had been out to the market with my maid, Sarah.  Some of the castle guards were berating an old woman in the street, and I told them to leave.  They didn’t listen, so I managed to grab one of their swords, and ordered them away, as the daughter of the Sheriff.  I’m not sure what impressed them more – my status, or the fact that I had a sword.  They left, and the captain of the guard reported the incident.  I don’t know what he said, but it prompted Father to allow me to get lessons so I could use the sword properly.  My father had always told me he wanted me to have as many choices as he could allow; but still the sword lessons had to be very discrete.”

 

“No doubt,” Robin chuckled, and then asked, “Who taught you?”

 

“Joe Lacey, then a captain of the guard.”

 

 Robin’s eyebrows shot up.  “Joe taught you?  He taught me as well, when I was a boy.  He was no mean swordsman when he was young and a fair archer as well; though I outshot him when I was about 10.”  He frowned sadly, thinking of the last time he had seen Joe Lacey.  “Age wasn’t kind to him.” 

 

Marian sighed.  “Grief was far less kind than the years.  But his mind stayed keen, if driven almost mad with grief and the need to do something about his wife’s death.”

 

“Do you feel the need to do something about your father’s death?” Robin asked quietly. 

 

“What can I do, more than I am now?” she demanded.  “I cannot kill the Sheriff for the sake of the shire, the Canon of Berkley is dead, and I am supporting the outlaw Robin Hood.”  She smiled at the last reason. 

 

However, Robin shook his head.  “You can’t support me openly.”

 

“Why ever not?” Marian sat up and pulled away, fixing a steely glare on him. 

 

“Because Marian,” Robin sighed in frustration, “we need to leave our possibilities open – such you going back to being our spy in the castle.” 

 

“I won’t be going back to the castle,” she said sharply.  “There’s nothing there for me anymore.  My father died there!  Why would I want to go back?”  The walls she had built began to crumble, and tears shone in her eyes once again.

 

“I’m sorry Marian,” Robin whispered, gently wiping a tear off her face, the touch lingering as he stroked her cheek.  “You’re too tired and hurt to think of this right now.  I’m sorry I brought it up.” 

 

“I brought it up,” Marian countered, but simply allowed herself to be taken into another embrace, which was Robin’s only response.  Cradling her in his arms, Robin leaned back until they were both lying on the bunk, side by side.  Marian rested her head on his chest for a moment as he gently played with her hair, and then whispered, “Robin, I would like to go to sleep now.”

 

“Well, then sleep.”

 

“I will.  When you’re in your own bed.” 

 

“Marian-”  

                                                                                                 

“Please, Robin, could you not argue with me for once, and just get over to your own bunk?  I want to sleep, and I doubt that will happen if you stay.”

 

Robin’s countenance turned roguish, “And why would that be?”

 

Marian yawned, “We’d be arguing all night long.” 

 

With her own roguish grin, she suddenly shoved Robin away.  He landed on the floor with a grunt of surprise, and quickly picked himself up.  “Good night, Robin,” she said sweetly, and burrowed into her blankets. 

 

Robin frowned, but whispered, “A challenge?”

 

“A statement.  Good night.”

 

“Very well.”  But instead of turning towards his own bunk, he stooped and brushed away the corner of a blanket and a stray lock of hair that concealed Marian’s cheek.  Kissing her cheekbone gently, he whispered, “Sleep well, my love,” and finally went to his own bed. 

 

Just as he was drifting to sleep, he heard Marian whisper softly, “Thank you, Robin.”  He smiled.  Perhaps he wasn’t such a traitor for feeling happiness at finally having Marian in the forest.  She seemed to be finding some joy under Sherwood’s protective canopy as well.  He hoped that happiness would stay. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Get Carter"

Marian lay in her bunk, replaying the events of the day. She had been through the entire range of her emotions since the morning, and she was exhausted physically and mentally. She had gone from being hell-bent on a sort of revenge for her father’s death, to frustration at Robin and the gang. Then rebellion spurred by frustration had led her back to Nottingham to play the dangerous game of double agent again. Finally, after the stress and guilt that always occurred after playing with Gisborne’s mind faded away to a remote corner of her consciousness, she had finally come to a comfortable truce with Robin. 

She was exhausted, but could not sleep; not even the restful sounds of Sherwood could lull her. Perhaps she was just over tired, but she could not help the soft smile and feeling of contentment that sprang up whenever she thought of the few quiet moments shared between herself and Robin, holding hands while they watched Carter ride away. The peace and joy of finally being together, going in the same direction for a change, seemed to be enough to keep her awake to savor the feeling as long as she could. Robin’s brilliant smile the moment she had taken his hand replayed in her head, and she smiled as well. 

The smile still glowing about her face, Marian turned to look towards Robin’s bunk. He was sleeping on his side, but as she watched, he rolled to his back violently, chest heaving in panicked gasps. She sat up, concerned and confused. His face was contorted in fear and his lips moved without sound. Marian suddenly realized he was in the grips of a nightmare. Moved by the memory of Robin coming to comfort her the night after her father died, she slipped out of her bed, and pulling a blanket around her shoulders against the night’s chill, crossed the camp to his bunk. 

There she paused, unsure if she should wake him or just let the dream run its course. But whatever was haunting Robin was apparently growing worse; sweat shone on his face and he whimpered in fear. She glanced around the slumbering camp in frustration, unable to decide. She found no answers in the shadows of Much’s cooking pots or the patches of moonlight that filtered through the leaves above them. She turned her gaze back to Robin, watching as the nightmare deepened the lines of fear and strain that marked his face. The teasing cockiness of bold youth was gone, and Marian saw the scars of war that he kept so well hidden from the world. 

“Marian,” Robin suddenly called. His voice was wraith soft though strained, as if he was screaming in his dream. 

She instinctively grabbed his hand, whispering, “I’m here Robin.” 

He started at her touch and woke with a gasp, eyes blinking rapidly as he sat up. “Marian?” he whispered; she nodded reassuringly, and he dropped his head, catching his breath in deep gulps. 

“What was it?” she asked softly. 

He shrugged, unwilling to speak. “The Holy Land. Speaking with Carter today brought it all back.” 

“Was it very terrible?” Marian asked. Robin rarely spoke of his time in the Holy Land beyond brief statements of the brutality and the succinct account of how the disguised Gisborne had stabbed him. 

“It was war, Marian,” he said simply. “But then . . . I kept seeing myself lose you. And that was worse.” 

“Losing me? How?” 

Robin shook his head. “I don’t know. But it was a feeling, and I kept calling to you, but you could not answer, could not come to me.”

“I am here with you now.” 

Robin smiled and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, you are.” 

He shifted over, holding out a hand in clear invitation. Marian pulled herself into the bunk and curled against his side, wrapped in her blanket and his arms. Face pressed into her hair, Robin whispered, “I don’t like to think of loosing you.” 

With her cheek against his heart and the strength of his arms about her, Marian hardly liked to contemplate such matters either. “What could take me from you?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. Many things. Gisborne, for one.”

She pulled away from his embrace. “Really Robin, why do you always bring him up? I am here with you, now. I chose to become part of your gang.”

“I know, but today when you kissed him-”

“I was saving your life!” she snapped. “And I did apologize already,” she added in a softer tone. 

Robin smiled slightly and replied, “Can I help it if I get rather jealous when I see something like Gisborne kissing the most beautiful woman in Nottinghamshire?”

Her eyebrow went up in a question. “Oh? Is that what I am?” But her face glowed with pleasure at the compliment. 

“Would I say so if it wasn’t true?” 

“Perhaps, if you were looking for some token in return,” Marian teased. 

Robin gave one of his half grins. “A kiss wouldn’t go amiss, my lady.” But even as Marian smiled at his rhyme, he added, “It might help keep the nightmares at bay.” 

She could see the shadows of pain and fear in his eyes suddenly, and felt a pang of sadness and frustration. He built walls around his fears, but when those walls were breached, how was she supposed to help him if he refused to really speak of it? Yet, he was allowing her an opportunity to help him in a manner that would allow him to shut away the past again without confronting it for too long. 

To hide her thoughts, she reached up and brushed away the hair that clung to his sweaty forehead and flopped over his eyes. She slid her hand down his stubbled cheek as she said, “For the nightmares, then,” and kissed him gently. 

Robin smiled in thanks and perhaps triumph, and drew her back against his chest. The fears that the nightmare had raised paled as he proved to himself that Marian was with him, and not lost as she had been in the dim torture of dreams. The frustrations of the day faded away as well, reconfirmed by Marian’s words. He allowed himself a moment of joyful triumph as he reminded himself that Marian was with him, and that they were on a peaceful track after the rough road of Marian’s mourning and his frustration with her actions. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Marian spoke. 

“They must be horrible, your nightmares.” 

He shifted uncomfortably; he preferred to forget about them rather than discuss them. “It was painful enough to have lived through it once, but to be forced to relive it again and again and knowing what is going to happen, but being unable to do anything to change it . . . that’s far worse.” 

“Does Much have them?”

“More often than I do, truth be told. But he seems to be able to shake off the shadows better than I can.” Robin looked over towards Much’s bunk. “But I think he’s sleeping well tonight. The reminder that Carter brought today bothered Much all day and evening. He’s probably at peace with it by now.” There was a strange wistfulness in his voice, and Marian wondered if he was almost jealous of the strength that Much possessed but eluded Robin. 

“And you didn’t find peace?”

Robin shrugged, avoiding the question with bland humor. “I was playing dead, remember? And then I was worried about you, and fighting to get out the castle alive . . . I had no time.” 

“And now the nightmares are leaving you no time to sleep. How are we going to live with you in the morning?”

“As usual. I don’t need a lot of sleep. Soldier’s training.” 

“Even the best solider needs to sleep sometime. You should try it.” Marian started to pull herself out of Robin’s arms, but he stopped her, his voice quietly pleading with her. 

“Marian, wait. Stay, please. If you are right next to me while I sleep, and can I feel your heart beat next to mine, then I will know that you’re here with me, and not lost.” 

She looked at him, seeing the shadows in his eyes again, as well as his love for her. With a nod, she slipped back into the bunk and curled against his chest. As his arms encircled her, she reached up to twine her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. Feeling the tenseness of the muscles, she gently rubbed his neck, and said, “I am here with you now, Robin.” 

He lifted her face with a soft touch under her chin and kissed her. “Reinforcements against the nightmares.” The roguish smile surfaced for a moment before he buried his face in her hair and fell asleep. 

Marian was surprised at how quickly Robin fell asleep. She thought it must have been either the nature of a solider to sleep whenever possible, or it was something akin to the comforted slumber of a child, safe from any danger the night might pose. She, however, still could not sleep. 

The night passed slowly. Whether his nightmares had spent themselves, or if her presence was enough of a shield, Marian did not know, but Robin slept nearly undisturbed. Only once did he mutter wordlessly and tighten his grip around her shoulders; she only stroked his neck and whispered, “I am here, Robin.” He relaxed almost immediately, the faintest smile on his lips. 

Suddenly, Marian wondered what the rest of the gang would think when they woke to find her and Robin curled together in the same bed, even if they were both still fully clothed. Although she had been in the forest for some time, her honor remained untarnished and she planned to keep it that way. Even as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. She knew the gang might raise a few eyebrows, and Much would probably find something trivial to complain about to mask his annoyance at Robin’s supposed behavior, but they would not ask questions. 

It did not matter because Robin needed her tonight, as she had needed him the night her father died. There was no feeling of debt, but just simple understanding. Life in the forest had not started as she had imagined, but she felt that perhaps after the events of the day and now the night, it might be taking a turn for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on ff.net


End file.
